


No More Dreaming Like a Girl so in Love with the Wrong World...

by SolanumTuberosum



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolanumTuberosum/pseuds/SolanumTuberosum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa/Myrcella/Daenerys</p><p>They didn’t trust men-especially their brothers-so they learn to trust each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Dreaming Like a Girl so in Love with the Wrong World...

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Blinding - Florence and the Machine.

Once, after Sansa had nearly been stripped before all of court and only she herself had stopped her twin brother, Myrcella Baratheon wondered how she ever loved Joffrey.

In the quiet of her chambers, when the Red Keep was dead and the night was blisteringly cold, the princess wondered what she truly saw in him, except herself, reflected in his face, because, just as Mother and Uncle Jaime love each other for being so alike, she loved Joffrey for being her face’s reflection when she could not bear to look in a mirror.

She wondered if, maybe once, there was something good in her twin that had been burnt away by greed and anger. She thinks that there must have been, for she never loved Cersei for being wicked, so surely Joffrey must not have been wholly bad?

Once, anyway.

When no one can hear her thoughts, Myrcella wondered what turned her beloved brother into the monster he is, whether it was their sin, or their mother’s calm, dreadful whispers in his ear.

She regretted all she’d done for Joffrey. She regretted letting him brand her. She regretted loving him, completely and irrevocably, for ignoring Tommen, despite their shared blood.

Mostly, she regretted letting Joffrey consume her, for letting him have every part of her.

She never says any of this aloud, choosing instead to stay in her brother’s favor, to pretend to return the love he gives to her, to let him think he had her, mind, body and soul, when he only really had her body.

Myrcella finds that if she does, she can stand behind his throne and whisper in his ear.

She protects Sansa and keeps the Queen away but mostly she tallies up her twin’s offences so, when the day come, she can justify her betrayal.

A small part of her wished it was different.

 

***

 

Robb Stark stood surely in front of her, his chin raised, his blue eyes downcast to gaze at Myrcella, who was forced to her knees by an un-named Northman.

She glared back defiantly at him, green eyes cold and sharp, like the ice he was meant to possess in his Tully orbs, but while her eyes were uncut emeralds, his eyes were rivers, deep and moving, but soft and welcoming.

The Princess decided that Robb was not a true Stark, that he was more Tully than anything. All his words echoed in her head.

_Family, Duty, Honor._

_Winter is Coming._

She wondered why he hadn’t honored his mother’s House words, or his fathers. Robb didn’t come for his sister. It wasn’t his duty to become a king. Winter didn’t come, not for Sansa, and Myrcella wondered if that was simply because Robb wasn’t Winter.

She didn’t say that, however, simply asked Robb how he thought he was going to win a war against the Lannisters.

She laughed when he repeated the Stark words.

“Maybe, but it’s not here yet, is it? Wolves wait for Winter, but Lions wait for opportunities.” She sneered at him, laughing lightly when his gaze sharpened on her. She leaned forwards slightly, still grinning.

“Lions don’t need the Winter to be able to Roar, your _grace_.”

He stormed off, leaving her laughing in his wake.

“Roaring isn’t the only thing a Lion can do.” She muttered quietly, her grin wide and predatory. “They can rip out a Wolf’s throat quite efficiently, as well.”

A few beats passed before she let out the barest whisper, only really mouthing the words.

_Or a Lion's._

 

***

 

When her grandfather entered her cell, Myrcella was convinced she was hallucinating. The Northern army couldn’t have been defeated, but neither could the Lannister one, so she wasn’t sure what she should make of her grandfather ordering the removal of her chains—a painful matter, as her skin had started to close over the bonds cutting into her.

Jaime had been released months ago by Lady Catelyn, but Myrcella had been kept chained, only released to relieve herself and even then, she’d been accompanied by guards.

Robb Stark couldn’t afford another Lannister to slip threw his fingers, but it seemed that didn’t matter anymore.

“Grandfather, I—”

“Be quiet, child.” Tywin hushed her, holding his arm out for her to take. She couldn’t grip it however, her fingers too numb, so he simply grasped her shoulders and raised her to her feet. “Bring a maester to my tent, Lancel.”

Myrcella didn’t say a word as her grandfather supported half her weight in order to mostly drag her to his tent.

As the maester tended her wounds, Lancel sat at her side and caught her up on the war.

Winter never came, not for Robb Stark, beheaded and desecrated and honor did not protect Catelyn Stark’s throat from knives.

She thought it was a sick justice that the King in the North died before his sweet sister, Sansa, did.

Lancel went quiet then, leaning closer to her.

“They say the Dragon Queen is coming to Westeros.” He murmured softly, stroking her dirty hair away from her face. “They say she’s going to eat all the Lions and Stags and Wolves she can find.”

Myrcella smiled at him.

“Let her try.”

 

***

 

“Sister!” Joffrey rejoices, mouth curving into a smile. She bit her cheek, tasting blood, and forced herself to return his relieved grin.

“Brother.” She replied, curtseying low for him. He laughed, beckoning her closer so she stood at the foot of the steps leading to the Iron Throne.

“How was your time with the wolves? I’m sure my lady Sansa will be intrigued to know of her brother’s last few months.” Joffrey gestured over to the wolf in question, who stood to the side, looking like a Winter rose in her frosty blue dress, eyes just as cold.

“Robb Stark was an honorable man, for a traitor, and he treated me well.” Myrcella replied, her gaze only flickering away from Sansa when she mentions her brother being a traitor.

She doesn’t mention his men, who were considerably less honorable.

“Good! I fear I would have to drag him back from the Seven Hells and slay him again if he had not treated the King’s twin with humility.” The King announced, murmurs of agreement echoing around the throne room.

Despite Myrcella’s feelings towards her twin, she knows he loves her and that, if he truly knew how the Karstark boy had violated her, he would be _furious_.

She kept her mouth shut, knowing it would be sweet Sansa incurring his wrath if he found out.

 

***

 

Sansa’s betrothal to Joffrey was set aside a week after Myrcella’s return to the capital, while two betrothals were announced in its stead.

One was Sansa and Tyrion’s betrothal, the other was Joffrey and Myrcella’s betrothal.

Myrcella caught Sansa’s eyes from across the room.

 _Winter is Coming_ , they said.

Unlike with Robb, Myrcella didn’t doubt Sansa.

 

***

 

Myrcella knew that Sansa was haunted.

She could see it in her eyes when she looked at Joffrey or Tyrion, or when her family was mentioned.

It was something dark and shifting in her blue gaze—colder, sharper, _icier_ than her brother’s—and when the princess kissed Sansa, she could see something in the wolf’s eyes _break_.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry.” They whispered into each other’s skin, into the thin column of each other’s throats, the soft silk of each other’s thighs.

Because Myrcella knew that sweet Sansa had suffered beatings by her twin’s hand when the princess was unable to protect the wolf, just as Sansa knew that Myrcella had been violated by her brother’s men where Sansa was unable to stop them.

They comforted one another though; sharing each other’s beds when once Myrcella would have shared Joffrey’s. She still has to lay with Joffrey though and pretend to be his ever-faithful sister and on those nights, when Myrcella comes back to Sansa, bruised and angry, it’s the wolf who calms her and kisses her better.

It was an occasion like that when Myrcella first tells Sansa her plans—blood still dripping from her hands and arms and chest where Joffrey had roughly shoved her over the Iron Throne and pulled up her skirts—plans that include the Targaryen Queen.

“A Lion, a Wolf and a Dragon. We’ll _rule_ , sweetling.”

 

***

 

Myrcella was a vision on her wedding day, wearing a beautiful white dress that was both high-necked and long-sleeved but was mostly lace on those parts so the modesty of it was diminished. There was red flowers braided into her hair as well as scattered across her absurdly long train and her black and gold maiden’s cloak and her trailing sleeves had the flower’s red color embroidered into them like spider webs.

Joffrey swept the cloak off her shoulders, tossing it aside before unclasping his own Baratheon cloak and swinging it over her. With the High Septon’s blessing, he placed an intricately decorated gold circlet on her brow.

Myrcella was Queen, but as she looked down at her mother’s lovely, wicked face, at the bitterness there because she thinks—mistakenly—that her son and daughter get a romantic marriage when she only got a loveless farce, Myrcella can see the parallels in their lives.

But Cersei still loves her twin.

Myrcella cannot even bear to look at hers as he kisses her, choosing instead to look down at her uncle’s beautifully sad wife.

 

***

 

When the Mother of Dragons finally took King’s Landing, it was only Myrcella and Sansa that didn’t fly into a panic. Tywin and Jaime were both gone, captured by the invading force, so it was only Tyrion who was keeping the peace with a frenzied Joffrey. Cersei was still in the Sept of Baelor, awaiting the Faith’s judgment.

She would only receive the new Queens’, Myrcella knew.

After news that the walls had fallen, Myrcella and Sansa had both been summoned to the throne room. They helped each other dress, the lion in a stunning blood red gown with a plunging neckline, a golden belt around her thin waist, gold detailing on the shoulders and sleeves and a lion’s head amulet nestled between her teats, while the wolf was dressed in a crisp white dress, its design simple and elegant in contrast to the pleated skirts of her counterpart’s gown, showing off her slight frame, with only grey velvet trim around the cuffs and neckline and running direwolves stitched into the hem. She wore a plain silver choker of a direwolf racing around her throat and biting its tail.

Separated, they both looked radiant, two of the most comely women in Westeros, but together, they outshone everything else.

When Myrcella and Sansa stepped into the throne room, arms entwined, everyone—meaning Joffrey, Tyrion, Bronn and the remaining Kingsguard—stopped to stare at them, taking in their gowns, their bodies—Myrcella, tall, with a large bust, flaring hips and a tiny waist; Sansa, taller still, with a thin, willowy frame and a straight posture—even their hair—loose, flowing curls of gold or styled, fiery braids of red. Everything about the two made people stop and stare at them.

Joffrey beckoned Myrcella to his side and Sansa followed behind to join her husband. Tyrion cannot keep his eyes off his wife and Myrcella feels white-hot jealousy burning through her.

 _Mine_.

The Queen tore her eyes from her uncle and her lover, letting them fall on Joffrey as she makes her way up the dais on which the Iron Throne and her brother sits on.

“My love, I’m told that, while the Targaryen force cannot breach the Keep, it would help if our forces had a few extra capable men.” She murmurs to her husband, forcing a light giggle from her mouth when he grabs her hips and pulls her down onto his lap. She can feel his hardness pressing against her and forces down a cynical laugh.

 _He wants to fuck when Dragons are at his door._ She sniped in her mind, but kept a serene smile on her face. It would not do to ruin all her hard work so close to its culmination.

“If you are sure.” He replies, pressing a line of wet kisses down her throat.

Myrcella cannot help but feel powerful, mighty, like a _queen_ when he trusts her council so fully, even knowing it is his love for her blinding him. She likes being able to make him do whatever she wants with just subtle hints. She loves how Sansa is not so stupid.

“My faithful Kingsguard, it seems you are needed outside the Red Keep. Everyone except the Hound and Ser Loras, leave.” Joffrey ordered but his knights hesitated.

“Did you not hear your king?” The Queen demanded, glaring at those who disobeyed.

“My Queen, it is said the Targaryen’s dragon has made it to the Red Keep—” Ser Trant spoke up, but was quickly interrupted.

“Nonsense! Go!” four of the Kingsguard left, but Joffrey gave Myrcella an uncertain look.

“Varys’s little birds are loyal, brother.” She assured him. Now, it was only Bronn, Tyrion, Sansa, Myrcella, Joffrey and two knights of the Kingsguard. Ser Ilyn was not there, instead with the ladies of court and Lancel.

“Join the women.” The King commanded of his uncle and good-aunt. They obediently left with their guard and know there was only two people to worry about.

The Queen smiled prettily, mouth full of daggers.

“Leave us, I wish to be in private with _my king_.” She purred the last part, running her hand down her brother’s chest. She didn’t miss their looks of disgust as she slid down to her knees in front of her twin.

“Insatiable.” He laughed, beginning to unbutton his beeches.

Roars and yells and clashing of steel echoed outside the great oak doors and Myrcella smiled as her brother hurriedly redid his laces before standing from the throne and going to make his way down the pale stone steps.

“Go, Myrcella! Hide!” He urged her, before turning his back on his sister and hurrying down the dais. She followed silently behind him and just as he was about to turn, she hooked one arm around his torso, before sliding out a small, wickedly sharp dagger from her sleeve and pressing its edge to her husband, her brother, her twin and her king’s throat.

She felt him stiffen.

“What—” His voice was confused and a small part of her broke. While her brother was a monster, he did love her. She’d loved him once as well and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was still the same brother she’d first adored, deep down inside.

Sansa and Tyrion entered the room through a side door and just seeing her beautiful wolf helped the Lion Queen steel her resolve.

“What’s left of the Lannister forces have been either imprisoned or dealt with, your grace. Now we just wait for Daenerys to arrive.” Tyrion informed her, just as the oak doors flew open and the Targaryen forces entered, the Mother of Dragons at their forefront.

“A gift, my Queen.” Myrcella announced, shoving her snarling, spitting brother roughly to his knees.

The Lion Queen found she quite liked Daenerys Stormborn’s sharp, glittering violet eyes and her even sharper smile.

***

“Our terms, your grace, are very simple.” Myrcella said, herself and Sansa sitting opposite the Dragon Queen in the chambers once used for the small council. Joffrey and his loyalists were all in the dungeons so only Ser Arys and Ser Loras stood behind the Lion Queen. Dothraki bloodriders stood behind Daenerys.

“An annulment between Lady Sansa Stark and Lord Tyrion Lannister and a match of sorts proposed between the houses of Stark, Lannister and Targaryen.” The Unburnt summed up with an incline of her head. “Lord Tyrion would be the Lord of Casterly Rock, but who would be Warden of the North?”

“I suggest sending an army to rid the North and Neck of the turncloak houses of Bolton, Greyjoy and Frey.” Sansa began, her eyes tightening at the mention of those who orchestrated her brother and his bannermen’s mass slaughter. “Then, I would send searches for both my younger brothers and my sister. Let them rebuild Winterfell as the last of the Starks.”

“And you, Lady Sansa, you would remain here and become my Queen along with your other Queen?”

“If you would allow it.” The wolf met the Targaryen’s eyes then, blue meeting violet.

“I have told you before of the advantages of… partnering with myself and Sansa. I am loved among King’s Landing and the surroundings and it would ensure Lord Tyrion’s fealty, while having a Stark would keep the North and Riverlands at bay.” Myrcella smiled at the dragon, knowing her words were true.

“And how would I provide an heir for my throne with only wives?” Daenerys demanded though the Queen saw a hesitant amusemant in her purple gaze. Sansa smiled then, like a crack appearing in ice.

“You could have a paramour, like Trystane Martell, or Ned Dayne.”

Queen Daenerys thought the Dayne was too young for her, but conceded anyways.

***

Myrcella didn’t cheer when her brother’s head rolled.

She didn’t cry either, just watched from her place on the newly-forged Lion Throne as he screeched at her, cursing her to the very depths of the seven hells and then getting desperate and begging her, pleading, crying like the little boy he used to be to reconsider, that he was her brother, her _twin_ and he loved her.

Her heart had been broken by Joffrey already though, so she didn’t say a thing, didn’t move a muscle, even as Sansa rose from her own throne and took her ancestral sword from her squire.

Myrcella and Daenerys both agreed that Eddard Stark would have been proud of his daughter, not for her revenge, but for the way she dealt with it.

When Dany had Viserion—her last remaining dragon, Rhaegal and Drogon having gone North to fight in the war against the Others—burn the Kingslayer and Myrcella had taken Cersei’s head, Sansa didn’t say a word to either of them.

Aerys was mad and had never even met his youngest child, and Myrcella’s parents had been very vocal with their disapproval, the Mad Queen especially.

They’d all laughed that night about how perfect a couple Aerys and Cersei would have been, but the mirth had quickly turned bitter.

Daenerys did not know the two girls, so when Myrcella finally allowed herself to cry, to scream and rage and destroy her chambers because Joffrey, her beautiful, _good_ baby brother was dead—she’d never cried for him when she’d first realized that her lovely twin was as rotten as his lady mother because he’d find out and she _had_ to keep Sansa safe—the dragon had had no idea what to do.

When Sansa had comforted the weeping girl with her lips and hands, however, the Mother of Dragons quickly fell into their pattern.

Eventually, she sobbed for her own lost brother too, of the man he could have been had he not been completely and utterly mad.

Myrcella and Sansa were both there to reassure her with their lips and hands and love.

***

The Age of Queens lasted many years, with very little unrest, only the barest discontent at having three women on the Iron Throne. The Queens were successful in uniting the Seven Kingdoms just as Aegon the Conqueror had once been and all of Westeros was prosperous.

The Night’s Watch was glorified by the Dragon Queen and got many more able recruits as well as two of the Queen’s dragons and the war against the Others lasted only a few years before Stannis Baratheon, wielding Lightbringer vanquished them all and built the Wall twice as wide and twice as tall.

Winterfell was rebuilt by Bran and Rickon Stark, Arya choosing to stay in Bravos, eventually being joined by one of Robert Baratheon’s bastards.

House Bolton, Frey and Greyjoy were all completely decimated and Robb Stark and his loyal bannermen were revenged. Lady Stoneheart disappeared and Edmure Tully repaired Riverrun along with his wife Roslin Tully.

Westeros was peaceful, content with the Wolf, Lion and Dragon Queens and the litter of royal children.

Aegon was the oldest, and just like the last, a Targaryen and Martell; Lyanna came next, with the chestnut hair of Willas Tyrell but the grey eyes of House Stark; Joanna and Steffon are Myrcella’s children, through and through, though they have the blue, almost violet eyes of Ned Dayne and lastly, little Brynden, a Tully boy with no trace of whoever his possible father was, because the Queens take whoever they want to bed.

When Aegon was seventeen and happily married to a sixteen year old Lyanna, Daenerys died of birthing fever after bringing little Rhaenys into the world with Dany’s white-blonde hair and Jon Snow’s grey eyes. Myrcella was killed a year later by Lancel Lannister’s younger brother so Sansa became Joanna’s Queen Regent.

The Wolf Queen became bitter and withered and a few years later, no longer having responsibility over a regency, she died broken, joining her Lion and Dragon Queens finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so Cersei was imprisoned around the time of Myrcella and Joffrey's wedding, Tyrion wasn't put on trial so he didn't kill Tywin, etc. Jaime was captured in a show of loyalty to the Targaryens, and Aegon VI was killed as baby. Also, Lancel left King's Landing when Robert died to finish squiring with Tywin. Anymore questions, leave a comment below :)


End file.
